ARISTOS ACHAION ,

[80s90sthrowback]

Jude Law photographed by Lord Snowdon, 1996.

[trojanbled]

❛          YOUR PETULANCE HAS NO PLACE HERE.     patroclus,  soft - hearted as he is,  may have forgiven your  misdeeds,  but i have not   ––   you know this well and yet,  you persist.     why ?     what will you gain from this ?          ❜

i.     @sunbruise     /     sc.

[trojanbled]

THEFTCUT    :

          devon’s  stare  is  an  intense  storm     where  interest  and  wariness  whirlwind.   there’s  curiosity  tugging  at  his  tongue,  and  a  sense  of  vigilance  that  tells  him  to  be  careful  what  he  says.  so  he  stares  unsure,  probably  dishonoring  his  father’s  gift  for  eloquence.  oh  well,  fuck  it.   “   i  met  him  -  patroclus,  the  other  day.   i  had  questions,  some  he  answered,  some  he  did  not.   however     “   his  hands  worry  at  the  hems  of  his   leather  gauntlet,  but  his  eyes  continue  fixed  on  his.   “   is  it  true  you’re  a  demigod?   “

HE HAD BEEN,  ONCE.     he supposed that had not changed   ––   the goddess thetis had done all she could to mantle his divinity,  to pull it forth until it shone buoyant and golden bright.     but  ancient greece  was a long way off from here and half - blood  godlings  were not as rare as they once were;  it was not  impressive  as she hoped.     the boy’s question gives him pause,  and his gaze draws sharp on that of his companion’s.          ❛          it is.     but this should not surprise you.     your generation is brimming with them.          ❜

[luthienne]

No. I was not afraid of him; but of myself. I seemed reborn in his unreflective eyes, reborn in unfamiliar shapes. I hardly recognized myself from his descriptions of me and yet, and yet – might there not be a grain of beastly truth in them?

Angela Carter, from "The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories”

[trojanbled]

DIESFIRST    :

‘     just like this.     ’     he remembers that same hand drawing across the pulse of his throat,   over his chest,   his hip,   the line of his thigh as it does now,   and he had warmed beneath his touch like a flower opening its face to the sun.    there is this,   too.    i know i have told you of this.    eyes close a moment,   and he sees that cat’s smile  ;  he pulls achilles close,   mouth pressed to the curve of his jaw.    tell me again.     ‘     i know what you’re trying to do.    δεν θα λειτουργήσει.     ’

HE SPENDS EACH MOMENT COMFORTED     between the soft,  warm clutch of his lover’s thighs,  pressing close enough to feel the  quickening  of his pulse as achilles reaches to cup him in his hand.     the accompanying shift provided just enough room to maneuver,  if patroclus  allowed  it.     his head bows to leave an open - mouthed kiss at the boy’s shoulder,  to taste the  salt  on his skin and leave his mark.     but then he lifts his head,  and his expression is creased with confusion.     the language resonates with him,  but he does not understand how.     startled,  he begins to draw away.          ❛          suis - moi ?          ❜

[greyyjoys]

when patroklos died achilles cried so hard the gods at the bottom of the sea could hear him but yeah they were just bros

[trojanbled]

❛          DO YOU THINK     we have the ability to change our fate,  or will every decision we make reap the same reward in the end ?          ❜          he asks for no one but himself   ––   a brazen young thing,  questioning  destiny.

i.     @sunderedawn     /     sc.

[trojanbled]

DIESFIRST    :

‘     you could never bore me.     ’    he tries his best to sound stern,   to set his resolve,   for he knows this game well  ;  but it proves an impossible feat.    achilles’ mouth is soft as petals,   and the gold flecks in eyes of spring green look even more vibrant than usual.    he cannot help the fondness of his smile,   warm and content.     ‘     you are  distracting,   maybe.    but never boring.     ’

❛          OH ?          ❜          he smiles,  baring white teeth and nipping the meat of his palm.     it brings him  joy  to hear this   ––   and in those few moments,  he seems to have  forgotten  the minutes prior.     the  stiffness  of shoulders begins to ease and he finds himself lulled into idyll comfort.     achilles traces the outline of his lover’s thigh with his fingertip.          ❛          distracting how ?          ❜

[diesfirst-blog]

AESTHETIC  :  ACHILLES  &  PATROCLUS.

for  @trojanbled ♡

[trojanbled]

❛          SPEAK,  THEN.     you’ve been staring a long while.          ❜          he feels the weight of his gaze like a heavy stone  pelting  against his skin,  and turns to greet it.     his voice is without malice.          ❛          well    ––    ?          ❜

i.     @theftcut     /     sc.

[trojanbled]

FLORENTAS    :

          the  confidence  in  his  nod      isn’t  matched  by  his  trembling  fingers  when,  after  a  hesitant  second,  he  retreats  his  hands  and  puts  them  back  inside  his  pockets.  this  feels  so  wrong,  so  against  every  decision  he’s  made  so  far  in  his  life,  but  he  looked  so  in  need   -  his  mind  wanders  to  the  apollo  cabin,  to  how  they  sometimes  use  drugs  and  ointments  to  make  demigods  sleep  easy  after  certain  battles,  and  he  tries  to  convince  himself  this  is  okay.   “   it  should,   “   he  says  finally,  voice  quiet  and  shy  like  the  last  rains  of  spring.   “   it  has  before,  but  results  may  vary  depending  on  the  person.  if  -   “   a  pause  to  clear  his  throat,  and  he  dares  to  lift  his  gaze  up  to  meet  his.   “   if  you  want  me  to  make  adjustments  i  could  try.     though  sometimes  things  like  this  can  get  better  by  talking.   “

HIS LIGHT HAD NOT YET DIED.     he is still golden,  crisp like the first dawn of spring;  he trusts blindly,  though remains  attentive  to every twitch and shift of muscle and tendon that draws his focus.     had he been too quick to beg the help of a stranger ?     was  catharsis  out of his reach ?     he has forgotten what it’s like to be at peace.          ❛          then i’ll take your word for it.          ❜

there are some things he can speak of with ease.     memories  that spill forth from a gilded tongue with a touch of  fondness.     the sweetness of his own throat and the  warm  swell of simple joy inside his chest will always be welcome when he mentions them,  most sought after in times of need.

his dreams will never be one of these things,  and he  sours  thinking about the response it would evoke.          ❛          it would frighten anyone,  the things i dream about.     i don’t think that is a good idea.          ❜         with the herbs pocketed,  he retrieves his wallet to fill the empty space of his hand.     the boy hadn’t asked for payment,  but he was more than willing to offer compensation.

[trojanbled]

DIESFIRST    :

before unease can fully settle,    shifting in his stomach like ash,   he props his weight on an elbow to better meet the kiss.    but he is the first to draw back,   dark eyes alight with concern.    a hand lifts to achilles’ brow as if to check for fever,   and sweeps a stray curl from his eyes.     ‘     will you not try to rest more  ?     ’

HE DOES NOT FEEL FEVERISH,     although he leans into patroclus’ touch as if to be comforted like a child that has fallen ill.     after a moment of this,  fingers find the boy’s hand.     his mouth presses a kiss to the palm,  then the underside of his wrist,  just above his precious pulse.          ❛          why ?     is this boring you ?          ❜          he wears a grin,  an accessory of his  mischief.

[beachnymph]

self care is listening to Africa by Toto for 22 hours straight, staring into the void until all your feelings, impulses, muscles, and skin melt away and you are but a pile of bones vibrating along to 80’s synth wave

[trojanbled]

DIESFIRST    :

‘     i would like to    have not woken up at all.     ’     his voice is thick and muddied with sleep,   its remnants clinging to him like morning dew.    yet something between them does not feel right.     ‘     you sound strange.    do you want me to leave   —   ?     ’

❛          I DIDN’T MEAN TO WAKE YOU.          ❜          his only peace had been to watch him dream.     the night had not been kind to achilles,  but when had it ever ?     he shakes his head,  and that is the only answer he gives.     his spine bows forward,  hand bracing against the mattress;  his mouth is claimed in a kiss that almost makes him  forget  about the terrors that still plague him. 

[timeaway]

I feel horrible in case you were wondering

[2wentysixletters]

[trojanbled]

DIESFIRST    :

the cool air against his back    stirs him,   rouses him to waking by the bed’s sudden emptiness.    but there is a lingering warmth,   a musk - sweet scent,   that tells him achilles is still close.     ‘     …   where are you going  ?     ’

@trojanbled.

THERE IS SOMETHING DIFFERENT     about him.     it’s in his movements,  the terrible stiffness of his limbs.     he would have  basked  in the afterglow all morning if he could,  content  to soak in the sunlight that spilled from the open window,  but the fates had a different plan.          ❛          breakfast.     you can still  sleep,  if you like.          ❜